


Lie if you have to

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 2nd person POV, 6 years is a long time., Ian gets them an apartment, Ian makes it up to Mickey, Ian waits for him, M/M, Mickey feels out of place, Mickey gets out of prison, Mickey has a hard time adjusting at first, PWP, Reunited Sex, introspective mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:11:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: When Mickey finally gets released from prison, it's a little overwhelming at first for him. 

  You run your fingertips along every surface trying to take it in. This is where he lives. This is where you are going to live. It's clean. Cleaner than you're used to. It doesn't smell like cigarettes and beer and it doesn't smell like the Southside, like you've been used to your entire life. You don't belong here. You keep that thought to yourself.


  "When your Dad's house got foreclosed on, I went and got all your clothes and some stuff I thought you'd wanna keep." He's standing in the doorway of the small kitchen and you nod not looking at him. "So you have some clothes here."





	

**Author's Note:**

> When my brother got released from prison, he told me how out of place he felt at first. How being inside was all he knew for so long that he was afraid to be out. 
> 
> It made me think that I'm sure Mickey would feel that way too when he was released. 
> 
> This fic explores that. 
> 
> Oh and sexy times of course. 
> 
> Comments are love. <3

  
  
The metal gate screeches and clangs as it opens and even that can't wake you from your trance. The guard grabs your arm, not hard, you and he are long past that, and he guides you through the hall. A hall you've only ever been down once, on the way in, almost 6 years ago. You realize you're shaking and you can't figure out if it's because you're recalling that memory, or because you're walking down this hall now for a different reason and it's terrifying you. You can't find a reason for it, but it's there. Below the surface.

Mike, who has become almost like a friend to you over these past 6 years, stops you in front of another gate with a door, a gate he hasn't motioned to be opened yet, and he's handed a bag full of stuff, it's just stuff to you now because 'personal effects' or belongings' haven't seemed important to you in a long time, and you take the bag hesitantly.

"It's normal," Mike tells you in a low voice. "I see it every day. It's normal to be nervous."

You look up at him and grip the bag tighter in your fingers. "Yeah." You don't have anything left to say.

"He's been here for hours." Mike tries to give you a small smile. He's one of the only guards in here that knows...about you. He's your guard. He takes you to and from your visits. He sees his face behind that glass just like you. Every Sunday. Every Sunday now for 5 years.

"I should be more..." You don't finish the sentence because you aren't sure what you're supposed to be.

"Excited?" Mike finishes for you. You shrug.

"Like I said, it's normal. It'll take some time to get used to. Just keep your nose clean, check in with your PO and get a job. And enjoy it. Just enjoy your life now. Because you know the alternative." Mike motions to the desk to open the gate and this time when the screeching and pulling of the doors echoes through the hall it makes you jump. You look past the open doors and you see the mess of red in the distance but you don't move. He stands, hands in his pockets and you still don't fucking move.

"Mickey..." Mike pushes out. "It's time."

You look at him, giving him one last nod. You should thank him. Thank him for being so cool all these years. For understanding. For giving you those extra 5 minutes with your visitors. For arranging that face to face visit with your son. He's one of the good ones and you know when you finally step out into the sunlight you won't be cursing him.

You take a step out of the doorway and you hear the gears begin to churn again to close and turn one last time to look at where you've been. You're fucking terrified.

"Mick?"

You hear his voice, his fucking voice, and you're pushed out of your daze, if only for a moment. He's closer now. So close. You could touch him. You can touch him. Hold him. Kiss him. Have him kiss and touch you. You can't fucking move.

He walks to you, hands coming out of his pocket. Fuck, you can feel his breath on your face.

"Mick? You okay?" He whispers. You nod. So does he.

"I told everyone we'd just see them later. I didn't want to overwhelm you. Svet's gonna come by later with Yevgeny. I told her I'd call her when you're settled." He takes the bag of your stuff from your hand. "You hungry?"

You shake your head.

"Okay. Come on." You see him hesitate as he goes to put his arm around your shoulders. He reaches out but then curls back, afraid. You feel like you're young again and he's asking permission to be close to you. Like 6 years has erased everything you two have created. You follow him down the hall and when the sun hits your eyes it shouldn't be so blinding. You had outside privileges. But this is different. The air feels different. Smells different. The wind picks up and you smell him in front of you.

He opens the car door for you, throwing your bag of stuff into the backseat. You blink at him, looking between the seat and him. He says your name again and it's as if gravity and your limbs decide to revolt because you fall like you're too heavy to keep upright, into his arms. He catches you, like always, and when you begin to cry he rubs the back of your neck the way you like and you hear him crying too and it takes you an hour before you can pull yourself out of his arms. He feels like home. And you know you're about to go home, but right here, in this moment as he holds you, you already feel like you are.

**********************

You run your fingertips along every surface trying to take it in. This is where he lives. This is where you are going to live. It's clean. Cleaner than you're used to. It doesn't smell like cigarettes and beer and it doesn't smell like the southside, like you've been used to your entire life. You don't belong here. You keep that thought to yourself.

"When your Dad's house got foreclosed on, I went and got all your clothes and some stuff I thought you'd wanna keep." He's standing in the doorway of the small kitchen and you nod not looking at him. "So you have some clothes here."

You finally look at him and he looks so tired. You've barely said anything to him and now you're in his apartment; an apartment he's been calling 'ours' for almost a year now, ever since he moved in; and you feel more uncomfortable than you ever thought possible. You're not acting like yourself, and you know it, even if you aren't sure what 'yourself' even is anymore. He means well. He missed you. He wants you here with him. He did all this for the two of you and you can't even fucking speak to him or touch him.

"Thought I'd order a pizza for dinner. Is that what you want? I mean tell me what you want. You must be wanting something you haven't had in awhile. I-"

"Ian."

He stops and the look on his face could make you cry if you weren't so tired of crying.

"Sorry." He whispers. You take a deep breath and walk to him, bringing your hand up to the side of his face. His eyes slide shut from the contact and you cup his cheek and press your forehead against his chin.

"I'm sorry." You tell him. You know this can't be easy for him either and the way you're acting isn't helping.

"I get it." He tells you. "It's a lot. You've been...away a long time. This isn't your home. Well, not yet at least. And it's okay. I just don't know what to do. How to act."

"Just...you. Be you." You tell him and you feel his arms wrap around you. You almost pull away and force yourself to be allowed to be held. You're such a little bitch.

"Okay." He kisses the side of your head and you bring your hands to his waist and feel the softness of his skin on your fingers. Your cock twitches and you sigh out a relief that you're still you somewhere inside, and that your fire for him hasn't been snuffed out.

He shudders underneath your light touch and breathes heavily against the side of your head. "I'll be patient, I promise, Mick. But Christ, I missed you. I missed us. I missed everything."

When he showed a year into your sentence on visiting day, you almost broke down. There he was sitting behind that thick glass looking at you with an expression you had never seen on him before. You both sat for a while, silent, the phones pressed against your ears, waiting for the other to say something. He finally was the one to break.

"I'm waiting. Fuck, Mick. I'm waiting. I'm so fucking sorry I-"

"Shut the fuck up." You growled at him. His eyes widened and you knew he was terrified you were going to tell him to fuck off. To never come back. But there was no way you could have. It was him. He was everything.

So for 5 years he waited. Just like he said he would. He came every Sunday, rearranged his work schedule to make sure he was off on Sundays. He put money in your account. Made sure you had everything you needed. Brought Mandy sometimes when she was back in town. Brought your son to see you when Svet couldn't make it. He used words like 'us' and 'we' meaning you and him and it felt so good to hear him say it. He kept his word, he made up for hurting you. It became easy being inside.

Until today. Until you weren't inside anymore. And now it isn't easy anymore.

It's fucking hard. Behind the glass, you were safe from emotions and touches that used to destroy you and bring you back to life all in a moment. You were safe from making promises of your own that you want to keep but are scared you won't be able to. You were safe from reality where life had gone out without you in it and now that you're thrown back into it and you aren't sure where you belong.

Your father used to make it look so easy to be out again. He stepped right back into old habits and it's something you swore you wouldn't do. You don't know how to act. How to talk. How to touch him.

Everything is foreign to you. Like you're in another country and don't know their culture.

Nothing ever came easy for you. Except him. Loving him was easy.

You finally kiss him and he relaxes into you and you can almost feel his body scream 'thank god.'

And suddenly you feel alive again. Like the fog that had been covering your vision is gone and all you feel is Ian's heat and hands and skin and love and the saying 'you never know what you'll miss until it's gone' has never had more meaning than this feeling. You realize you don't care where you are as long as he's with you. That you could still be living in that shit hole your father used to own or in the overcrowded Gallagher house where you and he used to be interrupted every other second, and it wouldn't matter. But you realize that he got this place for you two. That he'd been working extra shifts, and going to goodwill places to furnish this place so you would have a home to get out to. He had done all that for you. Because he loves you.

What the fuck do you have to be afraid of?

You push him back against the frame of the doorway and he grunts in pain but just slides his tongue deeper into your mouth. The sounds he's making bring you back to simpler times, when you both were younger and even if there were obstacles keeping you apart, none of that mattered because you were together anyway and it was a feeling of euphoria and need and passion and it was unlike any drug you'd ever done. And you feel like that now. That you haven't been able to breathe for the last 6 years and now there is air in your lungs and blood circulating through your veins and your cock is so hard you could break through this wall with it.

You wonder if you should be savoring this and as if he can read your mind, Ian pushes you back and swallows a few times as he tries to catch his breath. "Mick...I..."

And then you have to wonder if he's ready. You never asked if he had been with anyone else during those 5 years. You have to imagine he has been; something you never wanted to think about but have to come to terms with the possibility. But it's you and him and you've always rushed. You've always fucked, asked questions later and maybe he doesn't want to start this like that. Maybe you don't want to either.

You stare at him, searching his eyes for what he wants. You used to be able to tell by looking at him. You can't anymore.

"Come on," he takes your hand and leads you down a small hallway, kicking open a door with his foot. It's a small bedroom with a bigger bed than the room can honestly hold and you can tell there are freshly washed sheets on it because you can smell the fabric softener. There is a tall dresser and a small closet that has no door and it makes you smile because it makes you feel a little more at home because your old room's closet didn't have a door either.

"It's not much, but..." He starts to try and explain and you just push him into the room and onto the bed. He bounces a little and laughs and it's the most beautiful sound in the world to you. He reaches out for you and you stand in front of him, looking down at him, but only a little because damn he is so tall, even sitting down. He brushes up the front of your t-shirt and places an open mouthed kiss on your stomach and it ripples under his mouth as you moan at the feeling of his mouth on you for the first time in so long. He runs his fingers up your sides and keeps pushing your shirt up along with it and you finally take the hint and pull it over your head letting it fall to the carpeted floor at your feet. He keeps kissing your skin, licking, mouthing at it, every now and then just breathing you in. He presses his nose to your stomach and it feels so intimate. You feel wanted. Savored. Like you're waking up from a dream. Your brain feels fuzzy, your limbs heavy on your bones and your hands finally find his hair and he just presses deeper into your skin with his mouth.

He's mouthing praises into your skin and his hands are on your ass, kneading it through prison-issued pants and you can feel every dig of his fingertips through the thin cotton. He's taking his time with you. And normally, in the old days, you would have already yelled at him to get on you, but it's not the old days. It's now. And so much has changed. Except this. The way he feels. The way he makes you feel. And you know everything will be okay but he's proven to you he's not running again. He's done so much for you and you don't deserve him. How do you make it up to him? How do you give him one-half back of what's he's given you?

You pull his head back, maybe a little too rough but he moans and you're glad some things have stayed the same and you still know some of what he likes. You look at him, his eyes blown and darker with lust.

"Thank you."

You say it so soft, so quietly, you're not even sure he's heard you. But tears well in his too green eyes and you know he did. He just presses back into your skin, tears staining your stomach and sobs. You hold him as close to you as you can in the position you're both in, and let him cry like he let you just a few hours before. You think he's just relieved and you understand that feeling more than any other feeling he has. When his body stops shaking from his crying he pulls back and undoes the tie on your pants and inches them down your legs and you shiver when cool air hits your legs. He smirks at the tight white underwear and then mouths at the material, your cock hard and leaking behind it. He sucks through your underwear and the sounds that escape your mouth you haven't made in years. No one has ever made you feel this way. No one ever will.

With one hard push, your underwear is down around your knees and your dick is in his mouth and fucccccccccccccck if you don't groan like a little bitch. He swallows you whole, including your dick, and holds you upright by the back of your thighs while he sucks and licks and devours your cock like he needs it to survive. Now THIS reminds you of the old days when he would drop to his knees in an alley with your ass cold against the bricks and it takes just a minute before your cumming down his throat. And today he won't disappoint you either because you can already feel it start to rise as your balls harden and your stomach strains. You don't get a lot of opportunities to jerk off in prison and to be honest you've been on the verge of cumming since you first kissed him in the kitchen.

You pull at his hair to warn him but he just takes you deeper and reaches in front to rub your balls and you're done, groaning and bucking into his mouth as you explode. It should embarrass you if it had been years ago it would have. But fuck if that didn't feel amazing and Ian's licking his lips, looking up at you, with that look in his eyes like he's craving more, he's craving you, and you push him down onto his back on the bed and lie on top of him, tasting yourself on his tongue as you kiss him.

His shirt bunches up around his armpits as you push it up, needing the feel of his skin under your hands. You sit up, straddling his hips and he takes the hint, pulling his shirt over his head. Your pants and underwear are still tangled at your ankles and you kick them off over your sneakers and then push them off too, leaving just your prison issue white socks on. Ian always used to love that when you kept your socks on as he fucked you.

You press down against him again, kissing him, touching him, hands roaming, mouth roaming and he squirms and moans and writhes under you. He undoes his own pants and pushes them off himself as you savor every inch of his skin you had missed for the last 6 years. He's warm and his skin salty and you wonder if he's ever felt this good before.

His cock ruts against yours as it begins to swell again and you mouth against his lips for him to fuck you. He throws his head back and you suck a large mark into his neck at his pulse point as he tries to reach the bedside table drawer.

He realizes when you don't move from his lap what you want to do and somehow his eyes get a darker green, like the poison ivy that used to grow in your backyard. You used to believe anything that green was poison, and Ian may still be, but you'd gladly die from it. He takes his time fingering you open as you hover over him. He watches your face as he keeps adding fingers inside your hole, tongue resting against his swollen bottom lip as he twists his wrist and keeps hitting your spot that makes you arch your back and makes precum bubble out of your cock. Sometimes it lands on his stomach and he watches that too, eyes so dark and hazy with need want and lust and love that you have to keep shutting your eyes because it's all too much.

When the tip of his cock rests against your hole, uncovered, it's his way of telling you that he hasn't been with anyone else. It makes you want to cry and smile all at the same time so you just sink down onto him and use your body to say what your mouth cant. He grips your hips too tightly and you keeps up with your changing rhythm because it feels so fucking good you can't decide if you want it fast or slow. Soft or hard. You just know you want it all. He keeps up the best he can and he grunts and holds you up with his thighs against your back and you lift up and then slam down over and over until your throat is raw from the noises you can't help but make and when you cum a second time it's all over his chest and he smears his across his skin and cums so deep inside you that you can feel the heat of him and you shudder and collapse on top of him not caring if you're too heavy. He's broken you. In the best possible way.

You awaken, who knows how much longer later, to his fingers dancing across your back and you lift your head, blinking sleepily at him.

"You're fucking heavy," He grunts out and you roll off him, moaning at the pain in your legs from riding him.

"Fuck that was good." You tell him and he lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Always is." He kisses your cheek messily and sits up, his red hair sticking every which way.

"You gonna order that pizza, tough guy?" You ask and he looks at you over his shoulder, as he grabs 2 cigarettes from the side table. He lights both of them in his mouth and hands one to you. You take it and savor the taste and smell and feel of it in your lungs. He smiles at you.

"You want that as your coming home meal?"

You nod and take another drag, rubbing your stomach lazily. "Yeah, and we're gonna eat it in this bed because I'm not getting the fuck up. I'm broken." He laughs this time and leans over the end of the bed, fishing around on the floor for his jeans. You admire his ass as he finally finds his cell phone and brings up the number to a local pizza place. He looks at you, still on all fours as he holds his cell phone, cigarette hanging out of his mouth and fuck he's so goddamn beautiful it makes you want to cry. Again.

He smirks. "There it is."

"The fuck you talking about?"

"Mandy once told me the way to know if a guy likes you is if he gets that look in his eyes when he's with you. I see it. You have that look right now." Ian rolls onto his back, his long thick cock settling against his abdomen. He keeps searching through his phone and you push him with your foot.

"Took you this long to see it?"

He lowers his hands and holds his cell against his chest and looks at you, eyes beginning to go back to their normal green color. "Nah, it's always been there. I just know it's gonna last now."

"Me and you?" You let your cigarette burn down to filter and watch him watch you.

"Us." He crawls up your body and settles against your chest. "I'm glad you're home, Mick."

You kiss the top of his head and close your eyes because for the first time you can enjoy this. You live here, with him. Alone. It'll take some time to get used to; you have a lot to get used to now. But you'll do it. You'll do it like you've done everything else in your life but this time you'll have him too. And whatever time the two of you spent apart was worth it. You don't regret a thing because it brought you to this moment and you think this moment is pretty damn good.

"Love you." You mumble against his hair and he kisses your chest. "Thanks for waiting, Gallagher."

"Easiest thing I've ever done."

You know he's lying, but right now it's okay. You love the way he lies.


End file.
